Pop.
Three faces, going from enchanted to utterly stunned. Brown hair, black hair and fair, soon to be speckled with blood. Eyes went wide, one pair of hands opened to drop the cards right to the floor that had been being played with. Not one of them clearly had expected the arrival of a kenku elegantly arriving without announcement between them.
Heading right for the one who had dropped his cards first, Stare brought up her two daggers in swift sucfession, letting out a loud claw as she did. With the element of surprise as her ally she managed to dispatch the first life quick, and easy. A simple upthrust, down-sweep of both daggers tore through his chest and then his abdomen. Immediately blood spurted and immediately he was dead, his armour nowhere near enough to protect him from a crow woman who was amplified by the close proximity of her god.
"AHH, you-"
Twirling around she was met with a large sword being brought up. A clatter and that man was standing, his stool falling from beneath him. Stare tried to use her mythril knife to stab but the sword was longer and had a brief second on her. It dodged around her attempted hits, shortly joined by the second ringing of steel.
She twisted her head and threw the idea of sorrow deftly at the noise. With the need of a few seconds before she ended the one who had drawn his sword, she intended to cripple that fighter by causing physical pain to the first piece of anatomy. Coming face to face with no part of a physical body, but a large swinging hunk of metal it took the most passive of her abilities - her supernatural speed - to enable her to dodge.
"HELP!" one voice cried. "HELP!"
"Fuck," Stare bounded all the way back, moving right back to get away from both ready men, clambering over the body of their fallen comrade with a scurry of her clawed feet.
There was a crash as a secondary door opened, back from where Vitruvion was. Stare hoped that the god was not expecting her to take care of the worry too, as she threw a second painful stare at the victim before.
This time it seemed to have an effect. Where her eyes landed was the man's shoulder and he let out a loud howl, moving to clutch at it. The other gasped and seemed more determined to get to her, moving a foot on the dead one to get to her. Letting out the loudest caw she knew Stare dodged most of an uppercut, recieving a small flesh wound on her arm. At the same time a series of footsteps could coming closer.
More enemies. A longer time for combat.
Deliberately stepping between the next thrust Stare became lucky and managed to get a hit into the stomach. Then the other one, who had been suffering from the invisible pain, gathered himself and atracked from the other side. Stare called out loud, crying, "Others!" Before she rammed her shoulder into his.
Down they fell together, in a tangle of claws and legs and feathers and flesh. Meanwhile the one stabbed in the stomach was rapidly losing life and the noise from up the corridor ... Well it seemed to be contained, turning into a cacophony of grunts, swears and hisses. Stare instead focused her attention on the one before her - beneath her now. She grappled with him, struggling to meet eyes with him to force a nightmarish memory to be relieved.
But time. Three seconds is an age in the art of combat, and it was almost four when she gave up and just threw her utter disgust at his face. All the time they had been grinding blade on blade, struggling strength per strength, both covered in light nicks where the blades had just touched skin. Yet Stare grew frustrated, and thus she ground her eyes onto what empty flesh she could find, at the neck and focused. Rapidly the skin there began to literally die, the outer layers falling away to reveal a horrid black mess underneath.
"Ffuuuckkk!" The man screamed. "What are you? What the fuck are you?"
The pain caused enough pause in his fight. Stare managed to use her plynt dagger to stab him in the eye, then the cheek, then the neck. Red ran, his shouts fell to nothing, and all she was left with was the one she had stabbed in the stomach. He at least seemed still alive as he breathed shakily, grasping at his abdomen that blood was soaking from.
Then the reminder of the other. A large amount of scuffling noise. And yells and cries of pain.
Stare looked up to see a further three men. Two were corpses already, lying on the floor. The last was kneeling, with his back bent horribly backwards, as he began to scream for dire agony. Above him the figure of Vitruvion loomed, drops of blood slowly falling from a long, thin, golden-coloured stiletto. His other hand was before him, palm flat and directed at the man as a pale white light issued forth.
Her beak partly slightly as she watched the man continue to curve back, his screeches suddenly inclining to utter excruciation. Submitting to temption Stare slipped into her aura sight. There was Vitruvion, a man flowing with mountains of white hot, divine energy. His aura, a strong plum colour, glowed dissimilarly to the dark green of the man beneath him, who had just a glimmer of black demonic power. It made sense that Vitruvion would hate him so, and cause him to forcefully bend backwards, as the hairlines of power flowing from his palm indicated. Another line was touching the man's head, right to his third eye chakra that was blossoming with activity.
Suddenly the man gasped and froze ... Then fell to the side. Vitruvion lowered his hand, the light there fading, but not entirely disappearing. As he did he paused, then his eyes rose to meet Stare's, two vivid burning white lights in a halo of red-purple.
The god's lips parted, and he breathed slow. Then he held out his knife, pointing it straight at her.
